The Iron Warrior
by OfAClassicalMind
Summary: Post-Curse/During-Curse. One night, she sneaks into the castle, determined to take what they love most. The repercussions that follow affect many. Rumbelle, with other characters and plotlines added alongside them. Will contain mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, everyone! So, this is the continuing story of my one-shot (A Rotten Apple), which I got many favorites and author-watches from. Read that super quick one-shot, then read this! This story takes place Post-Curse and during the Curse (you'll see what I mean). This is thought vomit that has been cycling through my head for some time and I had to get it out before the plot of the TV show veers from what I'm doing.**

**When the curse ends, I don't think Regina will die. It's too easy. I think she will suffer every unhappy ending everyone else was forced to suffer in Storybrooke; hence her 'liveliness' in this story. Just sayin'. :D**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Once Upon a Time,' but I do own Emmabelle.**

* * *

**_The Iron Warrior – Chapter I_**

He nearly dropped the dinner tray when he saw her, curled up in her favorite windowsill with a book in her lap, right below her belly…Her incredibly round, very expecting belly. With her hair spilled over her shoulders, a smile gracing her face as she read what was no doubt her favorite part of the tale, she was the absolute definition of her name.

Beauty.

Rumpelstiltskin had told her many times before that she'd be far more comfortable sitting in his armchair by the fire, even going so far as to threaten finding a chaise for her, but she always insisted on sitting on the cushioned windowsill so she could see the stars whenever she wished. She claimed that during her imprisonment in both worlds, their light had guided her through the darkness.

"And how do they shine tonight, dearest?" he asked, moving slowly toward the table by the fire before setting the tray down.

He felt her eyes on his back and turned to meet her gaze, a nervous smile on his face.

She faced the window, examining the sky above her.

"They're shining as they always do, but the moon is full," she responded. "It almost outshines them tonight."

He smirked at her thoughtful reply and began to limp toward her, but she descended from her perch before he could reach her, meeting him halfway. He fell back a step as she threw her arms around him as though she hadn't seen him all day; she hadn't, he reminded himself.

"How did it go?" she inquired, taking his hands in her own, and for the first time all day, he honestly smiled.

"She was brilliant," he said. "Emma is taking over as the Royal Head of the White Guard within the month. All but one of us gave her a perfect score."

Belle's smile fell just slightly.

"Which king? Why?"

He sighed, walking her to his chair so she could sit and eat the small bowl of soup and slice of bread he had prepared for her, sitting on the arm of the chair himself.

"It was Frederick, but he was trained by the best. He feels she should get a better handle on the sword before she is promoted," he explained, and Belle rolled her eyes in response. "I agree with him, but she's already beaten our best men, even her father."

She smiled through a mouthful of soup at the thought of James being bested by his own daughter. Rumpelstiltskin smiled back, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her shoulders. He noticed she was wearing his favorite nightgown; a light blue frock with golden thread woven into it here and there. He'd made it, after all, and she loved to see his smile when he'd realize that she was wearing it.

"Henry is the best and wisest little prince I've ever met," he continued. "He was at the evaluation, of course, but I saw him on the side practicing some techniques with James now and then." He watched as Belle's smile widened at mention of the boy.

"He's going to be a soldier one day, just like his mother," she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Mark my words." Rumpelstiltskin chuckled.

"I don't doubt it," he said, his eyes falling into a distant stare she knew very well.

"Something else happened, didn't it?" she asked with a frown. "There's something you're not telling me."

She waited for a response for a few moments, but the silence quickly worried her. She made to stand up and he quickly took her hand, holding her in place.

"Please… Don't leave," he murmured hoarsely, his heart in his voice. He hated feeling weak around her, especially when the cause _was_ her.

His tone caught her off-guard. Since that moment in the dungeon when he'd first rejected her, he had always been very wary of letting her leave him after their reunion, especially when she seemed angry. But she wasn't angry at all. Concerned, perhaps, but not angry.

She moved to stand beside him, her fingers brushing his jawline.

"I was only going to go put away the dinner tray," she said with a small smile. She lifted his chin and suddenly found the chestnut eyes gleaming into her own. "The soup was magnificent. Thank you."

The wrinkles in his forehead slowly began to disappear as the sadness faded from his eyes. Her unfailing kindness would always be his undoing.

He should tell her.

"Regina stopped by to watch," he said, eyes suddenly downcast. He only did that when something made him nervous. Belle cocked an eyebrow and squeezed his hand, waiting for more information.

"She stopped by to see Henry, but I wouldn't have it," he said with a frown, finally meeting her eyes. "The boy has already been through enough without her poisoning his mind. I sent her away before anyone else could see her." He watched as she smiled sadly at his last comment, understanding why it had pained him. For years, Rumpelstiltskin had been unable to see his own son. Sending Regina away had forced him to relive many of those unhappy memories, and Belle knew it.

Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him. She sighed contentedly as he returned the favor, pulling her close. His memories always terrified him, and she always saw fit to hold him until they passed.

"Bae is just fine," she reminded him. "He's probably in his library right now, reading one of his books on literary criticism while Emma glares at him," she added with a smirk.

"It's not Bae I'm worried about," he stated simply. He always hid his emotion when he was frightened, and now was no different.

Belle immediately pulled away, a scowl growing on her face.

"What did she say to you to scare you like this?" she asked unabashedly. "Did she threaten you?"

He forgot his mind and immediately his eyes fell to her belly as he remembered Regina's words. Belle took a few steps back, horrified.

"She threatened the baby... Didn't she?" she asked, her voice wavering just slightly.

For the first time since he had known her, he could hear true terror in her voice. His Belle was afraid.

He took a deep breath.

"Regina told me that one day she would take our child away from us, just as I took Henry away from her."

He watched as Belle's face shifted from shock to confusion, her breath quickening. This would not do, especially not in her condition.

Reaching out, he took her face in his hands, calmly stroking her cheeks with his rough, calloused thumbs.

"Belle, she no longer has any power in this land," he reassured her. "She never will."

Her piercing blue eyes finally met his, an unspeakable sadness within them as she gently raised one hand and placed it over their unborn child.

"And you gave up your power for me," she murmured, her shoulders slumping just slightly. "We have no means of protection."

She felt immeasurably guilty. Never, not once, had she thought of the effect that kiss would have on their future, however welcomed it had been at the time. And now they were helpless to stop Regina if she chose to take their child.

He watched as the lines on her forehead increased as she thought, and he knew she was worrying more than she should. Before she could react, he quickly enveloped her in his arms once more, clinging to her as though he'd never have the opportunity again. She welcomed his warmth, holding him just as tightly. He hoped against hope that his words would soothe her.

"Let's make a deal," he whispered, his lips caressing her hair.

She lifted her head, eyes narrowed.

"What kind of 'deal?'" she asked, slightly suspicious of his intentions. He looked down into her eyes before twirling a strand of her hair, an action he knew would calm her.

"I will protect this child with all of my might. Beginning tonight, I will alert every king, queen, and knight to Regina's threat, and they will take the appropriate precautions to protect our child should anything occur-" Belle winced, "which it won't. I will see to it. You, on the other hand…" he trailed off.

She furrowed her brow, wary of her end of the deal.

"…will permit me to name our child."

He saw the smile slowly creep across her features, fully aware that she would accept the bargain. She stuck a finger in his face, playfully pointed at his nose.

"First name only," she stated. "I get to choose the middle name."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she promptly silenced him with her lips.

When they drew apart, they were both smiling.

"Deal," he said.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

He had made sure every part of the palace was secure before returning to their bedroom, where she was already curled up beneath the blankets, snoring softly. Quietly so as not to wake her, he tiptoed to the crib and peered through the unicorn carousel the 'Charming' family had given them.

She was sleeping just as peacefully as her mother, her golden locks shimmering with the magic they contained; the remnants of his own magic, lost the night his Belle had kissed him…The night they had conceived the wonderful creation before his eyes.

Around her neck sparkled a silver chain that held a small ring he'd seen fit to have created just for her immediately following her birth. The ring setting had been one of Belle's mother's. The jewel within had been made by one of Snow's dwarves, who had taken both his and Belle's tears of joy, combined them, then sealed them within a fairy diamond. It glittered white with a shimmer of the lightest shade of purple.

After tucking the blankets over her more tightly, he pressed a kiss to her tiny cheek.

"Sweet dreams, my little princess," he whispered, and he watched as she crooned for a moment before falling back into the lull of slumber.

He limped back to the bed, crawling beneath the sheets and adjusting to hold his beauty, her slight snoring bringing a small smile to his lips.

In all his happiness he had forgotten to check their window.

They awoke to the sobs and screams of their little Em.

Belle drowsily turned to face the crib and gasped when she saw the woman, cloaked in a deep purple, holding their child. She knew that cloak.

Oh, gods.

Rumpelstiltskin sat up and his stomach flipped at the sight unraveling in front of him. Belle was standing close to Regina, but not close enough to truly do anything. When his eyes fell on the knife that was pressed to their infant daughter's neck, he knew why.

He slowly crawled out of bed and stood by her.

"What are you doing?" he asked brokenly.

The cloaked figure chuckled; a vile, repulsive noise.

"What I should have done the moment she was born," Regina said.

He took one step forward and noticed the knife pressing further into the unmarred skin of his little girl, freezing in place. Nobody moved for several moments.

"What do you want?" Belle asked, her voice surprisingly calm. "We will give you anything you desire."

They could feel Regina's smile creep up their backs like an ill-composed poison.

"That's exactly why I'm taking her," Regina said.

With that, she ran for the window.

Rumpelstiltskin lunged out to grab her, missing her by inches and slamming to the floor, his bad leg unable to take the weight. The _crunch_ that filled the air was deafening.

Belle went after the former queen, but immediately stopped in her tracks when she saw the knife pressed to her daughter's neck once more.

Regina stood by the balcony, the moonlight glinting off her teeth in a disturbing manner as she laughed at the girl.

"Help him and I won't hurt your girl. Help her and I will kill him."

Belle stood there for a brief moment, unsure of her choices. Then, holding her chin high, she swiftly walked to her husband, falling to her knees beside him and gathering him close despite his protests, despite his command for her to take their child and let him die. But she was deaf to all but the roaring of the blood in her ears. She met Regina's eyes, and the fire within them nearly frightened the older woman.

Nearly.

They watched, defeated and shattered, as Regina scaled down the balcony with their Emmabelle.

Belle fought the tears, turning to her beast and helping him make his way to the bed.

"Francisco! _Francisco!_" Rumpelstiltskin cried out. The guard quickly entered the room. "She's been taken! Find her! Find her _now!_" he sobbed, the younger man darting from the room as speedily as he had entered.

Rumpelstiltskin turned to face the balcony, wondering how far she might have gone. That's when his heart fell to his feet.

He hadn't locked the balcony door.

Turning to the woman who had trusted him, the woman he loved, he realized he had betrayed her. His fierce, young beauty had chosen him over their own daughter and he had deceived her.

For the second time in his long life, he had broken a deal.

They heard voices carrying down the corridor, shouting orders and reporting the status of other rooms in the palace, but they were too numb.

They held one another close, not sleeping a wink all night.

* * *

Regina knew the child's full name, but chose to call her only by her middle name for safety. It was a common name after all.

Rose.

No one would ever find her; not in this place. Her hair could never be cut if it was to retain its magical properties, which she had yet to figure out. That would come with time. The girl would have some very long hair by the end of her lifetime, but that could be dealt with.

What she couldn't so easily face every day was the piercing blue eyes that had nearly unnerved her on the balcony that night. So like her mother's. And she had her father's disturbing laugh.

This story would be one for the history books, no denying it.

* * *

Just as they had on the day she was born, the King and his Queen lit hundreds of lanterns and thrust them into the sky on their beloved Emmabelle's first birthday. To commemorate 'the lost princess,' as so many now called her.

The searches throughout every realm had failed, though some continued in pursuit of what many now believed to be a foolish dream.

But for the beauty and her beast, it was their only hope.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you would like me to continue!**

**The deal between Belle and Rum is now broken; Rum failed to protect her and Belle's name choice is now used as Emmabelle's first name. Plots are so much fun. :D I'll update again soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, again! Now we begin to switch between worlds. Fun times! Thanks for all the favorites and story alerts! They are greatly appreciated!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Alan Menken's music or Glenn Slater's lyrics. I just use them for fun. If #Team7 can sing 'Heigh Ho,' then I can have someone sing 'Healing Incantation.' I also don't own 'Once,' but I DO own other new characters that I myself introduce.**

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_**The Iron Warrior - Chapter II**  
_

_Storybrooke_

He'd closed the shop and gone to Granny's that afternoon to get something that would warm his bones. Literally. The chill from the rain was already seeping into his bad knee, making it stiffer than usual, and it had only been raining for an hour. It was times like this when he sorely missed his magic.

Ruby brought him his tea, still steeping in the cup. She had gotten his order wrong once, and had from then on brought him his tea once it was prepared so that he could fix it himself. He put three packets of sugar into the cup, stirred it, and began sipping it carefully, wishing he was drinking from a chipped cup instead.

At that exact moment, a laughing couple entered the diner, soaking wet regardless of the large hoods over their heads. He expected it to be Mary Margaret and that 'charming' prince of hers, but when the young man took his hood and coat off, Gold realized he recognized the boy. He couldn't place him, but he'd seen many people in his lifetime. The boy was probably the son of some poor peasant he'd made a deal with long ago. When the young man pulled his lady's hood from her head, however, he nearly spilled his tea.

At a glance, she looked achingly familiar, those strong blue eyes smiling along with her lips. But it was impossible.

He blinked, and realized just how impossible it truly was.

This young woman had hair that was a mix of dark blonde with a dusty brown; _her_ hair had been brown with a hint of red. This woman was also about his height, whereas _she _had been a few inches shorter.

He had never seen this woman in his life. And yet, when she smiled at her lover, he was reminded of another smile. It had to be her eyes; they were an unsettling shade of blue, after all.

This young woman smiled at Granny and Ruby before taking a booth with her—husband? He noted the small ring on her left hand. Yes, they were indeed married. He overheard their conversation with Ruby as she took their orders, discussing how they had come from Boston to 'get away' for a little while. Ruby was, as always, entranced by the idea of something foreign and new.

They had come into town; they had the _ability_ to come and go as they pleased. Which meant something was strange about them. They were special. What was worse, they had a happy ending. Her Majesty would not be happy about this.

The young woman's eyes glanced around before meeting his own. He gave her his most intimidating smile, but she seemed undaunted. In fact, she smiled back.

Special, indeed.

* * *

_Fairy Tale Land_

She had just come home, her little girl stumbling toward her with a grin on her face, nearly tripping over her light green day dress in the process. Rose was eighteen months old, her golden hair having grown only to her shoulders. Though she did not yet know the power her new daughter possessed, she didn't really mind. The child was such a joy, and though it was not hers, she could consistently see her own mannerisms shining through the girl's blue eyes here and there.

Sometimes, she'd even let herself imagine the girl had Daniel's smile.

Regina set her basket of provisions on the table before turning around, scooping the young child into her arms.

"And how was my little flower while I was gone?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. While Rose had yet to speak, her intelligence was evident in the way she would freely express herself. Most certainly a trait she earned from her father-

No. She wouldn't let herself think of it.

Pulling away, she kissed the girl's forehead, thinking that for the second time in her long life, it might be okay to let someone in. After all, Rose wasn't going anywhere, and there would be no one else for the young girl to love. Why not love her back?

Regina stood to open the basket and take out their dinner when she heard a soft _thunk_ behind her. She turned to look, the sight that greeted her made her stomach fall into her feet.

Rose had managed to lose her balance and fall backward, her delicate head slamming into the arm of the rocking chair Regina had placed by the fire the day before. That damned, old, creaky chair. Rose was looking up at her, stunned by what had just happened.

She rushed forward and fell to her knees beside the girl, their dinner forgotten. She immediately began checking her head for any injury; there was only a slight cut, but enough to frighten a young child. And yet Rose wasn't frightened, or pained—or if she was, she didn't show it. Regina watched as the girl's eyes began to water, but she never let them pass the dam. She only looked at her mother, wide-eyed and startled.

Regina picked her up and sat in the rocking chair, holding the girl close. What should she do? What _could_ she do? She'd sung to Henry when he was a baby, but he'd always fuss the moment she began... And yet it was the only thing she could think of.

She remembered a song her mother had once sung to a flower in their gardens when she was just a child. The flower was rumored to heal the sick and injured, and her mother had hoped to use it to reverse the effect her age was having on her beauty. It hadn't worked, but it was a simple melody that she could remember.

Taking a deep breath, she began, rocking the little girl back and forth.

"_Flower, gleam and glow,_

_Let your power shine,_

_Make the clock reverse,_

_Bring back what once was mine…_

_Heal what has been hurt,_

_Change the Fates' design,_

_Save what has been lost,_

_Bring back what once was mine,_

_What once was mine…"_

She felt something warm in her hand, and looked down to see Rose's hair gleaming like the sun from root to tip, the tears that had been threatening to spill from the girl's eyes gone. The girl looked confused for a moment as the glow faded. She almost looked frightened, but the moment her tiny hand went to her head, her mother understood.

Regina sifted through her hair to find where her head had collided with the chair, but the cut was gone. There wasn't even a mark.

Rose saw the astonished look on her mother's face, and smiled.

"Flower."

It was the child's first word; a term of endearment that Regina had used since she had acquired the girl. But it was also the magic her hair held that made the word truly meaningful.

Her mother's song had been correct, but almost three decades too early.

Regina smiled back at the girl. This really was _her _daughter now, in both love and power.

* * *

"I'm sorry, your majesty," the doctor began, "but it is unlikely. It seems the only reason you were able to conceive was the magic your husband possessed at the time."

Her grip on Rumpelstiltskin's hand tightened. It had been five years, and they had been ready to try again. To no avail, it would seem. Again, something losing his power had taken from them.

She felt warmth begin to bubble behind her eyes.

"Thank you," she said with a stiff nod. He felt her release his hand and watched as she took measured steps from the room. After quickly thanking the doctor, he rushed from the room to find her.

He could hear her heels clacking against the wood floor and followed the sound to their bedroom, where he found her standing beside the fire, watching it crackle and pop. He pulled her back against him, pressing a kiss to her temple.

It undid her.

She turned in his arms and buried her head in his chest, allowing him to hold her as she sobbed. For five years she had held in the tears, the torture, but now there was no hope left. They would never find their Emmabelle, and they would never have another child. The pain of it all brought her to her knees, and he rocked her back and forth for what felt like hours, regardless of the pain in his leg.

When she finally calmed down enough to speak, she pulled away, looking into his red-rimmed eyes. He had been crying with her.

"I'm sorry," whispered Belle, "I'm so sorry."

He held her face in his hands, brushing the tears tracks away.

"Me too," he murmured.

She frowned. This was all her fault; why was he apologizing?

He saw the look of confusion on her face, and smiled slightly.

"The night we all returned to this land…The night I gave up my power…I did it for you. And no matter how long the consequences of that decision last, I will never regret it." He saw a slight smile begin to tug on the corners of her mouth. "I apologize for the way you feel now, but I will _never_ apologize for that night. I would rather walk through purgatory and hold you in my arms than have my power and never kiss your lips."

In the many years she had known him, never before had he said something so beautiful to her. She put her hands on either side of his face, placing his forehead against hers so she could look into his eyes.

"Do the brave thing—"

"And bravery will follow," he finished.

Their lips met tenderly, and she felt the blistering sadness leave her. He opened his eyes to see her smile.

"Kiss me again," she quietly requested. "It's working."

* * *

She had stayed up late with her mother to watch the strange lights in the night sky. They always appeared on her birthday for some odd reason, so as a special treat, Regina would let her stay up late, eating leftover pastries and cakes while they waited.

Rose saw the first one and jumped out of her mother's lap, the ring swinging from its chain around her neck. She watched from the tower window as the first lantern floated into the sky, followed by hundreds more of the same small size and golden color.

Regina smiled at her innocence and beauty. She had watched her daughter's hair grow, maintaining it and caring for it just as she had for the girl herself over the past five years. It had now grown to just past Rose's waist, a soft curl affecting the end of every strand.

Her little flower was absolutely breathtaking.

"Why can't I go outside?" Rose asked.

It was the first time she had ever asked that question. Not that Regina was surprised, but she most certainly didn't have a strong answer for the question, regardless of the possibilities she had dreamt up.

"The world is a dangerous place, Rose," she began. "It's filled with people who would want to use your hair and hurt you, and the only way you can stay safe is to remain in this tower." She stood and picked up her little girl, swinging her around as she giggled. "Do you understand, flower?"

Rose nodded, smiling, her blue eyes glistening in the light of the lanterns.

"I understand," she said softly before throwing her arms around her mother's neck.

"I love you, Mommy."

Regina sighed, the warmth spreading from her heart to the girl in her arms.

"I love you more."

She felt Rose grin.

"I love you most."

* * *

_Storybrooke_

He had been in the back room when he heard the _ding_ of his little doorbell. He laid the once magic mirror he was working on back on its cleaning cloth before putting his smile on, ready to make another deal.

Gold pushed the curtain aside and was astonished to see the young woman from the diner examining the unicorn carousel that had belonged to the 'Charming' family prior to the curse.

"Charming, isn't it?" he asked, the pun one that always entertained him.

To his surprise, she chuckled without looking at him.

His joke had been a funny one, but she couldn't explain why she found it so amusing. He'd figure her out and then she wouldn't get anywhere.

"It reminds me of one my parents hung for me when I was a baby," she remarked quietly. "Funny, isn't it?"

He felt unnerved by the young woman in front of him. No one had ever seen fit to explain why something had appealed to them, especially when the cause was a private memory of some sort. Why was she in his shop, sharing her thoughts with him anyway?

He kept his deal-making face intact, hoping to intimidate her.

"Is there something you'd like to barter? Or sell, perhaps?" he asked in his smoothest voice.

She finally turned to face him, a smile on her face.

"You don't scare me, you know," she stated simply. He smirked.

"Well, that's because you don't know me yet, dearie."

She chuckled again, shaking her head at his stubbornness. She should have known he'd be as hard-headed as ever.

"I'd like a job in your shop," she said. "Are you currently accepting applications?"

Now that was something he had never been asked before. She watched his face slide easily from confusion to confidence.

"And why on earth would you want to work in this place?" he asked, genuinely interested in the answer.

She smirked.

"I like old things and I love to negotiate with people," she shrugged, "and from what I can see, this place has antiques _and _happens to be a pawnshop."

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a better excuse.

She sighed.

"Listen, I really need the money," she explained. "My husband and I are—well, we're…" she trailed off. This man had no idea who she was yet. What were the chances he would give her this job?

"She's going to have a baby," said a voice from behind her. She felt her husband's arm go around her and she immediately relaxed into him. "We plan on staying until the baby is born, but we both need jobs so that when the time comes, we have enough money to sustain our family and move back to Boston. I'd rather her get a job where I know she'll be safe."

Gold was thoroughly shocked by the young man's words, but was even more astonished when he realized he was considering hiring the poor woman. Perhaps having her blue eyes around wouldn't be so bad. After all, he really could use a second hand around the place.

But really, it had to do with the fact that she resembled _her_.

"Yes," he said simply. "You may work here."

He watched as her face lit up, looking at her husband with delight.

"I have only one stipulation," Gold murmured.

She turned back to face him, her smile fading.

"Which is?"

"You are _never_ to clean this shop," he said definitively.

She hadn't expected that, but it made sense. She wasn't her mother, after all.

He watched the look of confusion turn to one of understanding and…did he see sympathy?

"For the safety of the child, of course," he explained, just in case she misunderstood him.

"Oh," she said, acting as though the realization had just hit her. Her husband withdrew from her to shake Gold's hand in agreement.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Gold," he said, a grin on his face.

"I don't recall ever giving you my name," he said with a slight frown.

"Well, you were the only one in the shop, and the shop is owned by Mr. Gold," said the young man. "We assumed you would be him."

Gold didn't look that convinced.

"Ruby also gave us your name before we left the diner," said the young woman, suppressing a smile. He looked as though he understood this time.

"Very well. Be here tomorrow morning at seven. I will need to open the shop and give you a brief tour and explain how I run my…negotiations, as you called them." He watched her blue eyes light up with enthusiasm. Her husband pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, clearly proud of her, before starting toward the door. She stepped forward and shook Gold's hand. He noticed a beautiful silver ring around one finger that held a stone of the lightest shade of purple he had ever seen. It suited her.

"Thank you. It was lovely meeting you, Mr. Gold," she said, her blue eyes staring into his own.

"Enchanted, Missis…?"

"Sparrow. Annaliese Sparrow."

* * *

**Hope you all liked it! The 'Charming' carousel just gets to me for some reason. I hope I'm getting the characters right! Let me know if you find something wrong with one of the characters that is in canon with the show. Reviews are appreciated! Thanks and love to you all!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, here is Chapter 3! It took a very long time to write, because so much happens! Exams also temporarily took over my life, as did three shows in two weeks!**

**Anywho, a small note: I kept Emmabelle/Rose's hair a realistic length for an eighteen year old that never cut it, as opposed to the overly comedic super-hair. Not as much Rumbelle in this one, but some nice moments for ALL of the characters. Besides, you are about to get a TON of Rumbelle following this chapter anyway. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Once' or 'Tangled.' I only own Emmabelle/Rose.**

* * *

_Storybrooke_

For the past two weeks, Annaliese had come in every morning at 7 AM to open the shop for him. She had never been late, never asked more questions than he found comfortable, and dealt with his customers in a very civil and personable manner. She was all smiles and organization, no matter the person or circumstance.

The perfection of it all drove him insane.

He'd studied her movements recently, noticing small things that reminded him of _her_ and yet sometimes he'd see a glint of something he'd never seen before.

She had incredible posture; her back was almost always straight, her shoulders down. She was thin, but muscular, as though she exercised regularly. From the way she lifted the heavier boxes in the shop (despite his offers of help), he could see she was physically quite strong. She was beginning to show, but only slightly.

Sometimes she would quietly hum to herself while he was in the back room, thinking he couldn't hear her, but he never recognized the songs. When a client came in to revise a deal, she knew how to handle the situation; she would pull out the client's original index card, take out a new one, and help them make a deal that gave them some leeway, yet kept the terms of the agreement as solid as though they had revised it with Gold himself.

He hadn't complained yet, though. Her smile and eyes kept him from saying a harsh word toward her, even if he was losing some money due to her new agreements.

She kept her hair pulled into a ponytail that naturally curled itself, tied with a different color ribbon every day. Normally she would come in wearing a nice blouse and jeans, but she would occasionally wear a dress to work when her husband came to take her out for dinner now and then. Compared to actual princesses like Mary Margaret and Ashley who dressed nothing like their fairytale counterparts, this girl actually _did_ look like a princess in every sense of the word, and she wasn't even in Henry's storybook.

Now and then he'd catch her staring through the shop window from a distance, losing herself in thought. It was moments like this when he'd see that glimpse of something else; something irrevocably sad. He would always send her to Granny's to grab their lunch when her eyes would gloss over like that. It made him feel uneasy, and he could never explain why.

He kept his polishing and restoration processes in the back room and to a minimum; he had no desire for her to breathe the harsh chemicals in her delicate condition. This afternoon, he had been shining a sword that had once belonged to Prince Frederick when he heard the soft sounds of a guitar playing out front. He hadn't heard the bell chime, so it must have been her. He pulled the curtain aside and couldn't see her, but could hear her soft singing and the music she coaxed from the strings. He quietly stepped forward and peered over the front counter.

She was sitting on the floor, the skirt of her violet dress splayed around her like an elegant jewel. The guitar was in her lap, and she was holding it as though she had played it many times.

Gold waited until she was finished before clearing his throat. She immediately stood to face him on the other side of the counter, the neck of the guitar securely held in her left hand.

"You never told me you could play, dearie," said Gold, truly surprised.

She smiled. Two weeks with him and she still made it clear he didn't frighten her.

"I taught myself a long time ago, but I'm out of practice," said Annaliese, turning her attention to the guitar instead. It was an exact replica of the one sitting in her bedroom in 'Boston.' She missed that room, with its high ceilings and beautiful blue and golden hues. But she especially missed her guitar. That is, the one she was currently holding.

"It sounded just fine to me," Gold responded, enjoying the quiet pink that colored her cheeks. Without a word, she walked to the wall where the instruments were all hanging in their respective places, hanging the guitar on its wall mount once more. He watched as she quietly stroked the body of the instrument, wondering what thoughts were going through her head as her eyes glazed over, gaining that faraway look they sometimes held. The look that, for some strange reason, painfully twisted his heart into knots.

He had an idea.

"I have some business with a client on the other side of town," he stated, suddenly becoming very nervous. He had never reached out to anyone since—well, in a while. "He owes me a great deal of money, but I am afraid my presence would... Well, let's just say we're not on the best terms, whereas you…" He trailed off, unable to say it.

She turned to look at him, smirking.

"Yes?" she encouraged. "I what?"

He looked through the glass of the showcase countertop, unable to meet her eyes with his confession.

"You understand people."

She knew he hadn't been this exposed in a while. In the past two weeks she could see how the loss of Bae and her mother had destroyed him, made him bitter. It was apparent in the way people would avert their eyes and scurry by him on the street, or the way Ruby would occasionally slam down a plate when she saw him with her in the diner, getting their lunch. To be truthful, the entire town was terrified of him. He was so unlike the man she knew. And yet, here and now, he had just allowed her a glimpse into who he truly was, and he knew it.

So she smiled at him, knowing the question that was circulating through his head.

"I'll make you a deal," she said. She nearly laughed when he cocked an eyebrow, surprised by her response. "I'll come with you on every business deal you ever need me for _if_ you agree to let me play that guitar whenever I like. Within reason, of course," she added, smirking. She brought herself to stand in front of the counter, hand outstretched.

She had answered his unspoken question, and he realized then that he was intimidated by this young woman with piercing blue eyes. She didn't just understand people, as he had told her. She understood _him_. And the thought of it shook him to the core.

"As long as you play for me once in a while," he added, taking her hand.

She shook it, her eyes twinkling.

"Deal."

With that, they closed the shop, quickly going out back where he had parked his car.

* * *

For once, he wished he had actually listed to his mo—Regina about wearing an extra coat. It was _really_ cold outside, and the wind was beginning to pick up. He let the invisible swirls of it twirl over the pages as he saw every story float over and settle atop the other, his hands too cold to keep their place. The aforementioned appendages were currently under his crossed arms, desperately trying to stay warm.

"Want some gloves?" a strong voice asked as it sat beside him on the bench. Henry looked up, startled by the unfamiliar sound of it.

This man looked like no one he had ever met before. He had short dark hair, with eyes so green they were almost hazel. Those eyes were trusting, though they looked older; like he had seen a lot for his age. He was tall, a little taller than Emma, and was well-built, but not overly so.

Henry watched as the man unfolded his hands, revealing an adult-sized pair of leather gloves. Henry smiled up at the stranger, gratefully taking the fabric into his own hands. The man smiled back, turning his attention to the other children in the schoolyard.

He could still name every child that was fooling around on the playground, and the thought of it made him feel old. He hardly recognized the boy sitting next to him, much less most of the children playing in the schoolyard. Had it truly been twenty-four years?

Henry kept a careful eye on the man before quickly slipping the warm, oversized gloves onto his hands, noting how they might fit his own hands if he were to grow some more.

"So, you're from Boston, huh?" asked Henry. The man kept his eyes averted, though it was obvious his attention was on Henry. Apparently news spread through this town like wildfire.

"Yes and no," the man said. "I'm—that is to say, my wife and I, we grew up somewhere else."

He could sense the boy's energy rising. He knew the child's curiosity, especially when it came to new and foreign things. Now he'd never be able to hide his secrets.

"Where did you grow up, then?" Henry asked brightly. There was something more to this man than met the eye; he either knew something he shouldn't or wanted to hide something.

The kid was onto him, just like he knew he'd be.

"We grew up in a small town in the mountains of Virginia," he said.

Virginia? That was an odd place to have come from, especially if you were staying in Storybrooke.

"And how did you meet her?" Henry asked, head tilted to one side in question.

The man smiled wistfully. He remembered how they met, all right.

"One day, I was practicing some fi—games with my friends in the forest behind my home," he said, reconsidering his word choices in front of the boy. "I was about seventeen years old at the time. Anyway, a little girl, about six years old, ran up and demanded that we let her play with us."

Henry laughed, and so did the stranger.

"My friends refused, but I took her aside and taught her how to play the game," he said. "We played together for the rest of summer. That fall I went to Boston University to study literature, but every summer I would make time to play with her, or watch her while her parents were busy. When I moved to Boston permanently, I didn't see her for a very long time."

Henry's smile fell at this, but the man's didn't.

"About eight years later, I had just published my first novel when a young woman, about eighteen years old, walked through the doors of my office. She was a first year Art Major at Boston University and wanted to know if she could illustrate for my novels," said the man, and Henry sat up in anticipation.

"It was her, wasn't it?" asked Henry, nearly bursting with excitement. "Your friend?" The man chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm before nodding in confirmation.

"And so we both lived happily ever after," he concluded. The boy seemed very pleased with the plotline, and they sat there in a comfortable silence for a few moments. The man's gaze fell on Henry's storybook, which was still open, its pages rippling in the wind.

"That's an interesting book you've got there, soldier," he said. "Mind if I take a look?"

Henry frowned slightly before reluctantly handing over the book, watching as the man flipped through its pages with his freezing pink fingers.

"It's not an ordinary book," said Henry, and the man looked at him.

"Oh, really?" he mused. "Looks like an ordinary storybook to me."

Henry sighed, and the man tried not to smile.

"I don't think you're ready for the truth," Henry started. "You just got here. You haven't seen anything strange yet, have you?" he asked.

The stranger shook his head to oblige the boy, but he knew something was most certainly wrong with this town.

"Not yet," the man said. "Will I?"

The school bell rang, and Henry quickly took the book from the man and carefully put it in his bookbag.

"I'll tell you what," Henry said, a small smile finding its way onto his features. "When you finally see something that isn't right, or something that feels weird, come back and I'll give you an answer."

The man smirked. "All right."

"Henry!"

The two of them turned to see a young woman with long blonde hair running toward them. The young man recognized her, and when her eyes met his, he froze.

"Hi, Emma," said Henry.

"Henry, who is this?" she asked, a protective scowl on her face.

The man watched as Henry turned to face him, a strange sort of confidence on his face.

"He's from Boston," Henry stated simply. "He let me borrow his gloves."

Emma's eyes glanced over the incredibly pink, visibly cold fingers of the stranger and sighed.

"I'm Sherriff Swan," she said, holding out one hand, her eyes never once leaving his. The stranger took it and shook it firmly.

"Caleb," he said. "Caleb Sparrow."

Emma smiled half-heartedly before turning to Henry.

"You better get to class," she told him. "Mary Margaret's going to kill me if you're late again."

The boy nodded, knowing he should do as he was told. He made to take the gloves off, but Caleb held up a hand.

"Keep them," said the man. "I've got plenty more where those came from." It was a lie, but it was a lie worth telling.

Henry smiled.

"Thanks, Caleb!" he said cheerfully, running toward the entrance to the school where Mary Margaret was already waiting for him. Henry turned and waved at his mother and Caleb, and the two of them turned and waved right back before Mary Margaret ushered Henry inside.

Emma cleared her throat, bringing Caleb's attention back to her. She crossed her arms as she was wont to do when she felt exposed or uncomfortable.

"Thanks for letting him have your gloves," she said, actually meaning it. The man smiled.

"It was the least I could do," he replied.

She stood there, analyzing him.

"Why were you talking to him?" she asked blatantly.

He placed his hands in his pockets, hoping the warmth would still his trembling hands.

"I was on my way to visit my wife at work when I saw him sitting here, his hands crossed under his arms," he explained. "I figured he could use a pair of gloves," he finished with a shrug.

Emma narrowed her eyes, hesitant to believe his story.

"And where does your wife work?" she asked.

"Mr. Gold's Pawnshop," he responded, almost too defiantly.

Emma's face returned to neutral.

"I've heard of her," Emma said. "Word on the street is that she's very kind, despite who she works for."

Caleb smiled.

"Yes. Yes, she is," he said with a small smile. "Now, if you don't mind, Sherriff Swan, I'd better get to the shop before she leaves for lunch."

Emma immediately stood aside, surprised by his brusque manner.

"By all means."

He walked past her, internally relieved, before turning to face her one last time.

"It was nice to meet you, Sherriff."

She turned to face him, almost smiling, but not quite.

"Same with you."

Without another word, he turned and continued toward the pawnshop, his mind contemplating what had just occurred.

Emma was so guarded compared to the one he now knew. He wanted to reach out to her, but knew it would only frighten her. She was fiercely protective of Henry, and her love of the child made him ache to be home with his mother. This land had no magic, and the complexity of it all made him wish to see Annaliese.

The story he had told Henry was false, but believable. Just in case, he had to tell Annaliese their 'background' so she wouldn't create a different story for them. He only hoped that she was still at the shop…

* * *

_Fairy Tale Land_

She had finally finished it. And oh, was it beautiful.

The night sky background was a deep purple, swirled here and there with the lightest shades of blue to represent the night breeze. The rounded hillside beneath was a dark green, as though it was completely bathed in darkness. Sprouting from the bottom of the mural were trees of different heights and shapes, the shortest of which sprouted with dark blue blossoms; the same blossoms that she could see below the tower if she leaned just past the window ledge. Atop one of those trees a young woman was seated, her blonde hair flowing down her back, the tips of it hanging off the tree.

But throughout the dark purples and the light blues, a stream of yellow lights was flowing, each one growing in size as they reached the top of the mural. The lanterns that would appear in two months' time on her eighteenth birthday.

But today was her mother's birthday, and this was her present.

"Rose?" said a voice from behind her, startling her. Without thinking, she grasped the curtain and threw it over the mural, hoping her mother hadn't seen it.

"Is everything all right?" Regina asked, curious as to her daughter's behavior.

Rose turned to face her nervously, nearly falling off the ladder in the process. She smiled, praying to the gods her mother wouldn't notice anything.

"Everything is fine, Mama," she said, a bit too confident in her words. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Regina pursed her lips, glancing to what Rose was holding.

"Is that a paint brush?" she asked, her patience thinning.

The young woman sighed. She'd been caught red-handed.

"Rose, tell me what you did this instant," Regina quietly demanded.

The young woman's shoulders slumped before pulling back the curtain, exposing her handiwork. Regina dropped the box of books she had brought them, her mouth falling open. Whether her expression was horror or surprise, Rose couldn't be sure.

She slowly made her way down the ladder with her palette and paintbrush, placing them on a nearby table. Almost immediately, she walked to her mother's side, absentmindedly smoothing her dress as she did so. Regina was still standing there, her face unreadable.

"Happy birthday, Mama," Rose murmured. No response. "I hope you like it."

"Like it?" Regina asked, finally turning to face her, a single eyebrow raised in question. "Rose, aren't you a bit old to still be painting the walls?"

Rose immediately cast her eyes down at the box and began to pick up the books, placing them back in the box one by one. What else was she supposed to do if she stayed in this tower all day long? She refused to apologize and, above all, cry, even if she could feel the warmth growing behind her eyes. She had never cried before now, and she would not start over a painting.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see her mother smiling.

"I love it, flower," she said. "Really, I do."

Rose smiled in relief up at her mother before standing, wiping her hands on her dress. Regina held out her arms, and Rose immediately went to her, the two of them holding one another close.

"What is your favorite part?" Rose asked, pulling away to look at the mural.

Regina studied it for a moment, noting how lifelike the lanterns looked as they floated through the night sky. It truly was beautiful, even if it did take up nearly a quarter of the entire room.

Her eyes fell to the girl with the yellow hair, whose face could not be seen, but Regina knew exactly who it was.

"I love that you placed yourself in it," Regina said. "When I look at it, I'll always remember your birthday and our little parties."

It was true. Regina could hardly admit it to herself, but the late night pastries and conversation made watching the lanterns the crippled king and his wife sent into the sky worth it. She loved those moments, even if they were short-lived. For nearly eighteen years she had raised this young woman, teaching her all the things a proper lady should know. She had blossomed into the perfect image of a duchess, or a queen. Her blue eyes could see things that other human beings couldn't, especially when it came to the good in people. This was always evident whenever they would have their reading night, curled up by the fire with some books, Rose always sympathizing with the villain in some form or fashion.

Rose was an intelligent girl, as could be heard in the way she would communicate and the way that she would argue, always making a rational point. She loved to paint and read. Most recently she had been begging for a musical instrument she could learn to play, being musically inclined as she was, but Regina had no idea what kind to get her.

And her hair…!

It had grown to the tops of her calves, but when it was braided (as it was now) it reached the top of her legs. It was golden, beautiful, and still held its magic. She was stunning, especially when she smiled.

Regina couldn't remember the last time she had loved anything or anyone like this. Her love for Daniel had been true, but her mother had squashed it before it had any time to actually thrive. This love, however, had spanned all of Rose's lifetime thus far. The connection they had was an insurmountable form of magic; the love of a mother and child. Regina had tried so desperately to be the mother she never had, and judging by the young woman standing in front of her, she had succeeded.

Rose knew that it was now or never. She walked over to the painting, twirling the silver ring on her finger the way she always would when she got nervous.

"Mama, since I'm turning eighteen… Do you think we could actually go and watch the lights this year?" Rose asked with a shaky smile, trying her best to keep her voice steady. She saw her mother's mouth open in response, but quickly cut her off. "I know you'll say no, but I only want to see them once. As a birthday present. That's all, I promise."

Rose watched as Regina drew a deep breath, quietly walking to the kitchen table where she set the box of books, slowly pulling each one out of the wooden contraption and stacking them on the table. She carefully examined each one before placing it atop the other, hardly making a sound.

Her mother was angry. Rose could always tell because she would become particularly silent, especially when she did not want to argue the issue at hand. But this was an issue that meant more to her than upsetting her mother.

Rose slowly walked to stand on the side of the table opposite her mother, but Regina refused to look at her. Hoping to ease her mind, Rose gently picked up a stack of books without asking and started toward the stairs that led to her bedroom, her braid swinging gently behind her.

"Are you happy here… With me?"

The question stopped Rose in her tracks. She closed her eyes, bowing her head. Had she really hurt her mother that badly?

She turned to face Regina, who was still fiddling with the books on the table.

"Yes, Mama," murmured Rose. "I'm very happy here. I always have been."

Regina sighed, her interest in the books suddenly dissipating. She turned to face her daughter, feeling every gray hair whitening further and every wrinkle deepening in anticipation of the fight that she knew was about to happen. A fight they had never had before now.

"Then why do you want to leave?" Regina asked, smiling despite how much the discussion pained her.

Rose thought carefully about her answer.

"I only want to see the lanterns," she said calmly. "We would return here after the celebration, and that would be the end of it. You have my wo—"

"No."

The chill in her mother's voice made her drop the stack of books she was holding, shock slowly creeping toward her chest.

"Why not?" asked Rose, some of her spark becoming apparent in her voice. Regina's face hardened.

"I have told you time and time again that the world is a terrible place, Rose," said Regina, desperately defending her case. "People out there, they don't think like we do. All they'd see when they look at you is your hair. Your magic. I love you regardless of that, but others won't." Indeed, her daughter was all she had left to love. Without her, she would be lost. She couldn't take the chance that someone might find Rose and take her to the king and queen, suspecting her to be the lost princess. Rose could _never_ know that she was the reason for the lanterns in the first place.

Rose could feel her heart start racing in time with her mind as she became angry, not understanding her mother's mind.

"If you took me, then I'd be safe," she declared bravely. "Nothing could hurt me!"

"I no longer have my magic!" Regina desperately shouted over her, causing Rose to take a step back in surprise. Regina's heart fell. Why did this have to be so difficult?

"I would love to take you, but I cannot guarantee your protection," said Regina, her anger replaced with defeat. "Without my magic, anything could happen to you."

Rose absentmindedly played with her braid.

"I have magic."

Regina smiled slightly, walking over to her daughter, gathering her in her arms.

"I know you have magic, dear. But it will not protect you." She felt Rose frown against her shoulder in response. "Is there anything else you would like for your birthday? What about an instrument?"

Rose exhaled, bottling up the remaining fight within her, before pulling back from her mother.

"Could I get a guitar? Or maybe a violin?" Rose asked. Regina smiled, grateful the previous subject had been dropped.

"Of course, dear," she said, pressing a kiss to Rose's forehead. Rose smiled, but just so. "I have some business with a friend in the forest. I'll only be gone a few hours. If I'm not back before sunset, would you mind making dinner for yourself?" Regina asked.

Rose shrugged, her eyes downcast.

"I suppose."

Regina smiled.

"That's my girl," she said with a grin, walking toward the window. "Why don't you look through those books and find one for us to read tonight? I picked some I thought you might like."

Rose nodded, trying to smile, as Regina sat on the windowsill, gaining her footing for her climb down the side of the tower.

"I love you, flower," said Regina.

"I love you more," responded Rose.

"I love you most."

When her mother was down the tower and out of sight, Rose immediately began to pick up the books she had dropped, carrying them up to her room. After making space for them on the bookshelf, she placed them all on one shelf in alphabetical order, automatically choosing the one with the most interesting name to read with her mother tonight. The Notorious Adventures of Pascal the Valiant .

After retrieving the other books from the kitchen table and stacking them on the shelf below all the others, she flopped onto her bed, deep in thought, twirling the ring on her left middle finger.

Her mother had snapped at her before, but today she had seemed far more firm than she ever had in the past. If she thought more about it, her mother had sounded scared.

Scared of what?

The _chink_ that came from outside the tower jolted her from her reverie, making her sit upright on her bed. Was her mother back already?

_Chink_.

No. Her mother used the hidden ladder. This sounded as though someone was using something metal to scale up the tower.

As if by reflex, she quietly left her bedroom and crept down the stairs.

_Chink_.

It was getting closer. What if it was a robber? She immediately ran into the kitchen, grabbing the only object she could get to without making noise; a cast-iron pan that was hanging above the sink.

_Chink_.

It was right outside the window now. She ran as silently as her bare feet would allow before finding her place right beside the window, waiting for the intruder.

She heard a groan and froze, poised to attack. The sound of shuffling feet met her ears before the robber finally jumped off the windowsill and into their living area, clutching two small knives whose blades were scratched beyond recognition.

It was a man. Well, she'd never seen one before, but if she had, this is what she'd imagined one would look like.

He was just standing there, apparently fascinated with her living situation. She would be too, she thought to herself.

"Wow," was all she heard him say, but the small noise was enough to startle her as she brought the pan across the back of his head.

* * *

"Your Majesties," said the messenger soldier, "the Prince's army will be here in one day's time."

Rumpelstiltskin looked up at the young man, nodding toward him in dismissal.

"Thank you," said the king. The young man left, closing the doors behind him. Rumpelstiltskin looked down at his wife, whose head was resting in his lap as they lounged on the chaise, reading the same book. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, feeling her smile against his leg through the thin robe he wore. He leaned down, pressing a small kiss to her cheek. She sat up, smiling.

Eighteen years. It had been eighteen years since they had been married, and she was still the fairest of them all, though her hair was beginning to gray and her laugh lines were more defined with each passing day, evidence of her good nature. But these transformations suited her; indeed, he would change absolutely nothing about her.

His face had aged, but his eyes still held that small twinkle she loved so dearly, especially when that twinkle was meant for her. He was nearly sixty-five years old, and yet the way he would hold her hand still sent shivers down her spine. Through it all, he was still an attentive husband, and he still had enough energy for the little things.

She leaned forward, taking the book from him and placing it on the nearby table. His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity before she leaned forward, capturing his lips in hers. They couldn't help but think their lives were blissfully fulfilled through one another as they deepened the kiss, wanting for nothing else in the world. Their love was layers deep and remained strong enough throughout the years to have pulled them through everything, from loss to war.

But it still had one more challenge to face.

* * *

**Phew! That was a long one!**

**Mr. Gold has a cane. I have no reviews. You do the math. :D**


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